The Drabbling Souls of Royai
by A. R. Russ
Summary: This will be a collection of my Royai drabbles. Not anything too fancy but I will warn you that there are spoilers. Chapter 6: Gloves. If only he weren't wearing them right now...
1. She Knew

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its plots, themes, or characters.**

**She Knew**

She knew I couldn't commit myself to her. (But never would I commit to another.) She knew I had no time for something as petty as love. (Not until I reached the top, at least.) She knew that I only cared for my goal. (A goal much more complicated than just becoming Fuhrer.) She knew of the treacheries I had willingly aided. (And how I wished myself dead for it.) She knew the hell that my gloved hand was capable of. (She had seen it all through that tiny scope.) She knew the smell of ash and the cries of death I had created. (And how I rarely slept at night- haunted by the memories.) She knew that much more than a soldier was buried with Maes Hughs. (He was my best friend, comrade, and my greatest strength.)

She knew all of this, and, still, there she was, standing behind me. (Which is why I will move forward. I will make this world a better place, and redeem myself. So that, one day, I will be worthy of her.)

**End.**

**A/N: Grammatically, I am sorely disappointed in this piece. Yet, I keep reminding myself that since I used Mustang's POV it is almost acceptable because most people don't think in grammatically correct terms. Don't worry, though, it gets better from here.**


	2. His Eyes

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its plots, themes, or characters.**

**His Eyes**

It wasn't often that she allowed herself the luxury of looking into his eyes. He was her superior, and, as such, she would almost always avert her gaze to the wall. Yet, even in those moments she could still see the dark charcoal of his gaze searing, branding itself onto her heart. He truly was fire- an all-consuming mass of brilliant heat that only needed but a spark and oxygen to survive.

Today she had seen that spark glittering behind his shadowy eyes. She had caught that brief second where his guard fell, and his passion shone through. Many of the other officers had asked why she had let the colonel hold her back. Why didn't she simply rise through the ranks herself? Every time she was confronted, though, her mind would wander back to his eyes. Those soldiers didn't see what she saw. They didn't know how deeply she desired to be the fan that fueled the fire in his eyes.

**End.**

**A/N: I like this one better than my first, but it still doesn't run as smoothly as I had hoped. Any advice on how to improve my flow would be greatly appreciated.**


	3. Bragging Rights

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its plots, themes, or characters.**

**Bragging Rights**

She's watching me again. I can feel her amber eyes burrowing into my soul, but somehow I can't stop the words from leaking out of my mouth. If only Havoc had stopped his stupid whining then I wouldn't be in this predicament. I don't want her to know of my shame, yet I'm sitting here bragging about it now. Havoc is amazed by how many woman I've added to my tally, but I can see that every notch has brought me a step farther away from the woman I care for the most. He looks at me as if I'm some great prophet, but her eyes glow with pain. Why can't I tame my tongue? Why must I continue to hurt her like this? Damn you, Havoc.

**End.**

**A/N: Mustang doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would take responsibility for his own idiocy.**


	4. Escort

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its plots, themes, or characters.**

**Escort**

He hated these things; she knew that, but she still couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto her face. This was the one time a year she allowed herself to go all out and dress up. Which meant it was also the one time a year she would get to watch him stumble and stutter over his words.

It was somehow always understood that the colonel would escort his first lieutenant to the ball. He never arrived in a limo or brought flowers. Those things were for young lovers, and they were simply two adults accompanying one another to an otherwise lonely event. Yet, when she opened her front door to greet her superior there was a moment of unsteadying silence. His eyes scanned over her body as if he had never seen her before, and when he settled his vision on her amber eyes, she could see the faint signs of a blush forming. She smiled softly and took his arm. They didn't need words in this moment, but he couldn't stop the comment from coming forth. "I should have brought you flowers."

**End.**

**A/N: Again, I did not like the way this flowed. I feel like there are gaps, but I can't put my finger on where or how to fix it. Any advice out there?**


	5. Meddling

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its plots, themes, or characters.**

**Meddling**

My fingertips grazed softly and deliberately through the soft fur of the small pup huddled gently in my arms. I kept my gaze relaxed and my hand steady, but Hayate knew me better than that. I was nervous- dreadfully and utterly nervous. My typically strong and stoic hands were becoming moist from edgy nerves.

The look on my superior's face was so serious that it frightened me. I don't know why, though. I mean, for years now I had stood at his side. In that time I had seen his face drenched in tears, twisted in pain, seething in anger, smirking in lust, and radiating with joy. Yet, this look was foreign to me. It was an odd mixture of care, respect, and admiration.

His steps were calculated as he moved forward; exactly three strides and he stood right in front of me. Not dangerously close, but enough to raise the eyebrow of anyone passing by the now cramped office. I had to remind myself to exhale. I could feel his heat beginning to overwhelm my own as he reached up to stay my sifting fingers. I felt the blood rushing to my face while the shock of our touch ran through me.

I don't remember when he took Hayate out of my hands and placed him on the floor, but I do remember the potent wave of pent up emotions that threatened to drown me when his lips grazed and tugged at my own. His hand had slipped behind my head to play with the hairs at the nape of my neck as my own hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, and then linked around his head. I was glad for the other hand he had my waist, because I could feel myself melting when his tongue flickered over my bottom lip.

That was when I was reminded of the third presence in the room again. Hayate always hated when attention was pulled away from him for too long, and he had begun yipping and pushing his way between our legs. Roy chuckled low in his throat and I heard the sound vibrate through my whole body before he released me to reach down and pat the anxious little pup. His eyes flashed with amusement as he finally sighed and mumbled, "Meddling little mutt."

**End.**

**A/N: This one turned out a lot longer than the others, but I figured it would be better to just run with it than to cut it off short. Anyways, reviews are greatly appreciated- even if you hated it. So, please take the time to drop your two cents.**


	6. Gloves

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its plots, themes, or characters.**

**Gloves**

Normally, the colonel despised the damnable gloves that caused his fingers to sweat and bleed; he hated the course flint-laced fabric that tore at his calloused thumb and middle finger. They were nothing more to him but a disgusting and constant reminder of the atrocities he had once been a part of. Yet, right now he couldn't have been more thankful for their obtrusive presence on his hands.

He could have sworn to every false god every conjured by the small minds of man that her hair had always been short, but he had quite obviously been wrong. There she sat at her desk with her head thrown back and her fingers brushing softly through her golden locks. The heat of the day had gotten to his first lieutenant, and she had to rework the frizzy mess the humidity had created.

He watched in awe as each one of her strong, pale fingers meticulously worked the knots and bumps from the golden waterfall that now pooled just past her shoulders. He felt his own fingers twitch as he longed to assist his subordinate in her futile task of taming her hair, but he knew that even if he walked over to her right now and ran his fingers across her scalp and down its length it would all be in vain. With those damn gloves on he wouldn't be able to feel a thing past pressure.

That was why he was thankful for his gloves today- because he knew the second he touched her would be his last second before he was reminded what a bullet piercing skin felt like. He shivered at the thought, and then lowered his eyes away from his deadly temptress. At least now he knew his gloves could save life and not just take it.

**End.**

**A/N: I was definitely laughing as I wrote this piece, just so you all know. Also, I've noted that I really don't really use their names very often if at all in these little blips; so, expect to see me working on that in the future. Anyways, please review because my hits to reviews ratio is way down and that saddens me.**


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